Subdue and Suppress
by soon
Summary: AUHBP Harry returns from the summer holidays after the incident at the DoM in a drastically more subdued mood and Snape takes notice. Reigning one's temper is all well and good, but losing all semblence to human emotion along the way is most certainly not
1. Do Not Go Gentle Into That Goodnight

Disclaimer: J. K. Rowling is the Goddess of Harry Potter and co. I claim no right to anything, nor am I making any money - this is purely for my enjoyment and (hopefully) others.

Summary: Harry returns from the summer holidays after the incident at the Department of Mysteries in a drastically more subdued mood and Snape takes notice. Reigning one's temper is all well and good, but losing all semblence to human emotion along the way is most certainly not.

Spoilers: PS/SS - OotP

Ships: RWHG. HPSS friend/mentor - not slash. Implied SBRL.

Warning: Some suicidal themes.

A/N: Er- my first... constructive criticism, welcome; flames, not. Any ideas for anything are also welcome and greatly appreciated. I am still in school and therefore do study so do not expect too many updates during the term.

"Speech"

_Thoughts/emphasis_

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**Prologue: Do Not Go Gently Into That Goodnight**

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The third night into the school holidays found Harry Potter of Number Four, Privet Drive, Little Whinging at his desk reading. A short glance would leave the viewer with the impression that he was enjoying some much-needed relaxation at the end of the school year by indulging in a long forgotten fairytale remnant from his youth. This was not the case. Harry Potter was studying the art of Occlumency. And even if he wasn't, he hadn't exactly been read any fairytales as a child to have one to look back on. If one took a closer look, they would find the faded impression of the Hogwarts emblem on the back.

Harry sighed. God, he missed Sirius. He missed him so much it was like the grief had taken a physical form of pain in his chest. Returning to his studies he let the feeling of loss melt into the jumble of thoughts taking residence in his brain.

Ever since Voldemort had posessed him that night, Harry felt as though he no longer had reign over his emotions - they had reign over him. He found he couldn't help fuming in anger everytime Dudley - _the fat lump_ - voiced his opinion on an all matter of delicate topics in the wizarding world. This wasn't ever in the presence of his parents, though, because they would not stand for any talk of magic, vague or otherwise. If there was one thing Vernon Dursley was perceptive about, it was anything relating to magic and there was no way anyone could question or talk about it without him knowing or finding out.

Glancing up at the clock above his desk, Harry decided he really should turn the light out and get some rest. Quickly changing into something that barely resembled clothing, but were his pyjamas nonetheless, he waved his hand at the switch across the room and slipped under his covers. Placing his glasses on his bedside table Harry shut his eyes and attempted to sleep.

That was another thing that had changed after his Voldemort Posession (as it was understandably dubbed) - he seemed to have developed strong wandless abilities. Not that he was complaining about that. The Ministry tracked wands and while it was possible to track spells, wandless magic was almost like the ambient magic that resided everywhere in varying degrees of strength. Therefore it left nearly no impression on the surrounding area that people, favourable or otherwise, would be able to trace.

Finding a comfortable position, Harry allowed all thoughts to drift to the edges of his consciousness as he cleared his mind and faded off to sleep.

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_What is that bloody racket? That boy is going to get it if he doesn't shut that bloody mouth of his and stop that God-awful moaning!_

Vernon continued along this vein of thought in the misplaced hope that his 'well-meaning' would reach the boy and he would shut up. A few minutes passed and his annoyance overroad his desire to stay in bed.

_What could he possibly be doing at this hour of night to make such a noise?_

Grumbling to himself as he pulled on a night-gown, Vernon fumbled for his watch and pressed the button along the side of it, lighting up the face and the disgustingly early time that it was.

_3-bloody am! Does he have no respect for anybody?! The little runt is going to get it!_

Lumbering down the hallway and pulling back the numerous bolts that adorned Dudley's second bedroom door, he found himself glaring down upon the twitching, sweating and moaning form of the Potter-boy twisted in his sheets, the blanket kicked off onto the floor.

"Boy! Stop that this instant! The neighbours will hear you!"

Vernon Dursley was by no means an intelligent man, but yelling (quietly) to the boy who was in the throes of a nightmare and expecting him to respond, and coherently, well, that was slightly stupid. Pulling his arm to see if he would respond to touch and finding that he wouldn't, Vernon turned to the window as he thought up a large number of scathing and angry remarks he would pelt the boy with when he did wake up.

As it was, desire became reality and the boy awoke. Screaming.

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And there you have the prologue. I'm trying to do a story where the means are slightly off the beaten track so any help would be wonderful.

-soon-


	2. Much Too Unsettling

Disclaimer: J. K. Rowling is the Goddess of Harry Potter and co. I claim no right to anything, nor am I making any money - this is purely for my enjoyment and (hopefully) others.

Summary: Harry returns from the summer holidays after the incident at the Department of Mysteries in a drastically more subdued mood and Snape takes notice. Reigning one's temper is all well and good, but losing all semblence to human emotion along the way is most certainly not.

Spoilers: PS/SS - OotP

Ships: RWHG. HPSS friend/mentor - not slash. Implied SBRL.

Warning: Some suicidal themes.

A/N: Er- my first... constructive criticism, welcome; flames, not. Any ideas for anything are also welcome and greatly appreciated. I am still in school and therefore do study so do not expect too many updates during the term.

"Speech"

_Thoughts/emphasis_

Thankyou sideshowkennedy! My first reviewer ever!

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**Chapter 1: Much Too Unsettling**

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"Severus, must you glare so?" chided the Headmaster across the lightly snoozing form of the Charms Professor. Appearances were deceiving as said professor had applied glamour before taking part in this risky endeavour - sleeping at the head table on the first day back.

"Yes, I must, now that you ask," was Severus's cold reply. Dumbledore gave a beseeching look over the rim of his glasses before turning back to his meal and the (or, better put, _his_) enjoyment of the evening.

_Must that meddlesome man spend his entire exasperating existence admonishing me for the way I look at, talk to, listen to and relate to my students? Well, of course he does._

Severus sneered as his gaze turned back to the student body at large and began to rove once more. There was Draco looking slightly grey around the edges, not at all comfortable with the whole idea of Death Eaters. Grandeur and distinction be damned if you had to kill someone first. Let alone the blood, rape and torture required beforehand. _Hopefully he won't be trying his father's shoes out-for-size for much longer_.

Sweeping over the two lumps that were almost an extension of the blonde boy, Parkinson who was hanging off his every word and Slytherin's newest Prefects, Severus continued along the Hufflepuff table and right over the few shaking forms of those few who met his eyes. A whole year was not nearly enough time for one person's absence to go unnoticed - the Diggory boy had had heart, he admitted, if just to himself.

Saving his best glare for the Gryffindors, Severus sent a lighter look across to the otherside of the room to the Ravenclaws and their quiet, if slightly studious, reunion. Nothing out of the ordinary there; never was.

And, here a sigh escaped the slightly parted lips of the Potions Master, the lion-hearted, foolhardy and courageous house of - the sneer returns - Gryffindor. Not to mention the man-of-the-hour. Or year. Or reign-of-Dark-Lord; Harry Potter. Severus snorted earning a jolt from the half-aware Professor Flitwick and a curious look from the Muggle Studies professor at his other side.

Severus prided himself on being a perceptive man and quite able to make astute observations on things that other people missed on a regular basis. As it was, he noticed this time that Potter's other two-thirds did not seem to be hanging off his every word. In fact, he squinted a bit, they seemed to be hanging of _each other's_ words. _My my, Mr. Potter. It seems you've lost favour over these past holidays. I wonder why..._ he trailed off looking for the down-turned mouth expressing depression he expected to see. To his surprise (not that he showed this) he did not seem even annoyed, in fact, he seemed almost content. In an entirely disturbing way. Feeling Severus's gaze, Potter turned to face him, a blase smile replacing the previous look on his face. A smile that appeared to be painted on, on purpose, to cover up something much too unsettling for the public's viewing.

He dropped his face to his plate, something that Severus was thankful for as he had no desire to succumb to Potter's will and end the staring contest first (which he had been about to do, much to his chargin).

Mulling over this new developement, he too dropped his face to his plate and continued his meal, turning over theories in his mind.

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"Harry, where're you going?" inquired Ron as Harry stood and began to make his way to the portrait hole. It was Saturday, last night having been the welcoming feast, and already he was feeling cramped inside.

His best friends had begun dating over the summer and Harry was glad for them. He didn't much mind that they spent a lot of their time in each other's company and he became the third-wheel because they were happy. Giving Ron a smile that appeared weary for a moment before it became kind, he replied, "Just out for a stroll you know. Get some fresh air. And I thought you two might want some more alone time." His smile turned playful.

Hermione was listening to the conversation disinterestedly as she combed her fingers through her boyfriend's hair. Ron gave her a raised eyebrow before turning back to Harry and leaning his head on her shoulder.

"Sure thing mate, just don't get suffocated by the Giant Squid or anyting, right?"

"Yeah, yeah sure thing." He gave another smile that didn't quite reach his eyes and left the common room.

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Harry breathed a sigh of relief as he stared up into the great blue expanse of sky above him. It was so peaceful outside. He had always enjoyed it, which was probably another reason he loved flying and Quidditch so much. _To be flying is to be free_.

It was outdoors where he could escape Dudley and his gang of Harry-hunters, Aunt Petunia and her screeching commands for chores to be done, Uncle Vernon and his thick mustache that twitched before a tirade, the stares of the Hogwarts population when another story circulated about him possibly becoming the next Dark Lord and other such nonsense, his primary school classmates and their tea-

He broke off as another memory surfaced; this one from the summer and not nearly as pleasant as his previous thoughts.

_Flashback_

Late afternoon strolls around the nearby park had almost become routine for Harry these past few weeks. It allowed him time to think over the recent debacle at the Department of Mysteries and the consequential death of Sirius. The hollow feeling and choking grief that appeared everytime Siruis came up was becoming less unbearable as the days went by and he learnt to accept it. Harry understood now that it wasn't entirely Snape's fault, or Dumbledore's, or Kreacher's, nor even himself. Yes, some of the blame did lie with him for not persevering with Occlumency and running off without speaking to someone, but hindsight wouldn't help matters. Sirius was dead and he accepted that and grieved for him and moved on. He could not, would not, flounder about in a well of depression; he would learn from this. In fact, he was learning from it by practising what Snape had indirectly taught him and he _would_ become a better person.

Passing the set of swings in the playground, Harry spotted someone he hadn't seen in years. It was his old maths teacher from fourth grade, one of the few teachers who hadn't treated him like the supposed criminal he was and had actually looked out for him from time to time. She must've been nearing forty now, what with her (he counted the years in his head) nine year old son. Deviating a bit, Harry made his way over to say hello.

"Mrs Evatier, it's Harry, Harry Potter." he greeted, waving as she caught his eye.

"Harry! Dear me, it's been a long time - seven years. How's life treating you? Doing well in school I should hope," a wink and cheeky smile followed the last remark.

"Of course ma'am! And I've been well." Grinning, Harry remembered all those times that Mrs Evatier had smiled at him, instead of frowned. When she'd congratulated him on his 'fine efforts' not scolded him for his 'blatant disregard for authority'. His overwhelming gratitude for her efforts towards him in his junior years at school spilled forth and seemed to wash over the surrounding area.

It was at that moment that Harry realised that his gratitude hadn't only taken the form of a feeling, but of magic too. Not sure how this could affect the surroundings, his eyes darted from side to side, anxious to see the damage. Finding nothing obiviousand deciding that such a positive feeling shouldn't do any damage in the first place, he turned back to Mrs Evatier, only to find that she had turned away herself andwas inspecting the flowers down by her right.

"Excuse me, Mrs Evatier?" he said, but she took no notice.

"Mrs Evatier, if you wouldn't mind..." Finally catching her eye he trailed off after noticing their decidedly blank stare.

"You're talking to me? Oh, I'm terribly sorry! I don't suppose you live around here? It _is_ a very nice place, if I do say so myself." Giggling like a little girl she straightened and made her way over to the swings, seating herself on the one beside her son.

As Mrs Evatier prattled on to her son, who was looking more worried every minute, Harry put a name to what he felt with her recent questions and statements - deja vu. He recalled a memory of some three years earlier of a man in dusty robes grinning like a maniac at the rocky cavern he was in. Did that mean- _No! No it couldn't be. Memory charms required concentration and I certainly wasn't concentrating on _that_ when I was talking to her_. But as he watched and listened he realised that, yes, he had inadvertantly cast a memory charm on his old maths teacher, causing her to forget her very _self_.

Harry watched in horror as her nine year old child began to realise that the lady on the swing next to him wasn't his mother, at least not anymore. With that image did he realise himself that he had, in this child's eyes, for all intents and purposes, murdered Mrs Evatier. She was no longer Mrs Evatier, merely a shell that had once housed a brilliant mind and loving personality.

_Oh my God. What have I done?!_

Harry turned and threw up in the bushes. There was no naivete to protect him from his actions this time. He had destroyed a life by experiencing _gratitude_.

Still ashen and shaking, he spun on his heel and ran from the park. He ran from Mrs Evatier who wasn't actually Mrs Evatier. And he ran from the little nine year old boy. The little boy who, because of Harry, would never have his mother back. Ever.

_End flashback_

Pale and tremoring, akin to his memory-self, Harry quickly made his way back inside thinking that perhaps outside didn't offer quite the peace he thought it did.

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Chapter one is done :). I know that's like two chapters in one day, but I find that the more chapters, the more people want to read your story. So I thought I'd just get this one finished too and see what you think.

I love reviews :)

-soon-


	3. UNbanned Quidditch

Disclaimer: J. K. Rowling is the Goddess of Harry Potter and co. I claim no right to anything, nor am I making any money - this is purely for my enjoyment and (hopefully) others.

Summary: Harry returns from the summer holidays after the incident at the Department of Mysteries in a drastically more subdued mood and Snape takes notice. Reigning one's temper is all well and good, but losing all semblence to human emotion along the way is most certainly not.

Spoilers: PS/SS - OotP

Ships: RWHG. HPSS friend/mentor - not slash. Implied SBRL.

Warning: Some suicidal themes.

A/N: Er- my first... constructive criticism, welcome; flames, not. Any ideas for anything are also welcome and greatly appreciated. I am still in school and therefore do study so do not expect too many updates during the term.

"Speech"

_Thoughts/emphasis_

Hopefully I'm improving my writing... any tips on Sevvie would be great! He's a hard character to write *wipes sweat from brow*.

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**Chapter 2: Un-banned Quidditch**

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"Mr. Weasley, your timetable." Professor McGonagall stated before moving along the table.

"Miss Granger, and-" she slipped another sheet out of her pile, "-Mr. Potter. I gather you chose your subjects well, all of you." McGonagall sent a look over her glasses before continuing along the table, her voice drowning in the noise that filled the Great Hall.

Ron took a glance over his timetable before beginning to complain about the subject and house placements; mainly that they shared both their Transfiguration and D.A.D.A. classes with Slytherin.

"Aw man! Would you look at that! You'd think old Dumbledore would know that we don't get along. But he just has to put us with the Slytherins."

Hermione sent a glare at Ron who was too busy sending his own glare at the Slytherin table.

"Ron, you would think you'd at least have the courtesy to keep your voice down." She scolded, before once more turning back to her own timetable.

Harry gave a quick glance over his own timetable, noting with surprise that he had gotten into all the subjects he had nominated for, even Potions. It was Sunday morning, and another day till school actually started, but he took note of what subjects he had on Monday, so he could read ahead a bit.

Timetable

Harry Potter

Gryffindor

Monday

8:30 - 10:15am  
Transfiguration  
w/ Slytherin

10:15 - 12:00pm  
Charms  
w/ Ravenclaw

12:00 - 1:00pm  
Lunch

1:00 - 4:30pm  
Double Potions  
w/ All Houses

Tuesday

8:30 - 10:15am  
Herbology  
w/ Hufflepuff

10:15 - 12:00pm  
D.A.D.A.  
w/ Slytherin

12:00 - 1:00pm  
Lunch

1:00 - 2:45pm  
Potions  
w/ All Houses

2:45 - 4:30pm  
Transfiguration  
w/ Slytherin

Wednesday

8:30 - 12:00pm  
Double Charms  
w/ Ravenclaw

12:00 - 1:00pm  
Lunch

1:00 - 4:30pm  
Double D.A.D.A.  
w/ Slytherin

Thursday

8:30 - 12:00pm  
Double Herbology  
w/ Hufflepuff

12:00 - 1:00pm  
Lunch

1:00 - 2:45pm  
Potions  
w/ All Houses

2:45 - 4:30pm  
Charms  
w/ Ravenclaw

Friday

8:30 - 10:15am  
D.A.D.A.  
w/ Slytherin

10:15 - 12:00pm  
Herbology  
w/ Hufflepuff

12:00 - 1:00pm  
Lunch

1:00 - 4:30pm  
Double Transfig.  
w/ Slytherin

Deciding that after lunch would be a good time to read through the first few chapters of his Charms, Transfiguration and Potions books, Harry went back to his breakfast. He knew he would receive weird looks, especially from Ron and Hermione because he never used to be one to read ahead, anytime for anything, but he had promised himself over the summer. And studying, at least, would keep his mind off other things. Things he did not want to think about. Especially since Harry needed to continue to stay calm and collected and that was going to be very difficult with Snape and Malfoy in the same classroom as him, along with potions. What joy. Hermione was going to be there, though, even if Ron wasn't and that would help a lot. He would do this for her - he will stay calm and not lose his temper or get too excited. His hands were already stained. They needn't be even more so.

They say things spoken in anger are true, but what about things felt in anger? Or hate.

_Flashback_

"Shut up, I said. Just shut up!" Harry was infuriated. Sick and tired of Dudley's remarks about Sirius, he was losing his cool very fast. It didn't help matters that he was still confused and hurting over what happened to Mrs Evatier and Sirius hadn't been gone that long anyway. _How dare Dudley disrespect his memory! His mouth isn't even clean enough to talk about the Black's, let alone Sirius!_

"You're not fit to say his name! Let alone demean him! You coward! Couldn't say that to his face now could you?!"

"Well I won't be able to anyway cause he's a dead man! Not even six feet under because he bloody well died _aaannd_ disappeared!" Dudley looked pretty smug with that last remark. He looked ready to saunter off right about then.

And Harry was fuming. He could feel his fists clenching involuntarily and his nails digging into his hands as he went over Dudley's words. _'Your godfather's death was probably God's first wish. Hell, I bet you're the only loser who cares that he died because he was the only person to ever show interest in you. In fact, he probably got the wrong kind of interest in you. You know _that_ kind?'_ _Dudley is so full of it. And he doesn't know shit! He has no idea what I've been through, nor anybody else. He's just stuck in his whale-sized world for his whale-sized arse while he makes fun of every kind of person there ever was!_

He wanted so much to ring his fat, blubber neck. And he would ring it good and well; give him a taste of his own medicine!

A flash of white-hot pain lanced through his head and chest and his face contorted in agony. Then it was gone. Harry's anger slipped away as he began to grapple with his newest confusion. _Well, it didn't come from my scar, so it mustn't have be-_

Dudley's scream ripped through the air as he flopped onto the floor and clawed at his skin in an attempt to rid himself of the torture.

_Oh no no no... Not again._

He tried to pull it all back in, but there didn't seem to be any magic there. Dudley's screaming was burning holes in his ears, echoing off the walls of the house. Then he stopped and the last echo faded away into a thick silence.

Harry's legs buckled beneath him in exhaustion, the floor bringing him to a sudden stop as he hit it. A crack came from somewhere underneath him, a precursor to the burn of a broken arm. Groaning in an effort not to cry out, he could hear the sobbing of Dudley who was lieing a metre away.

"No, not again. Not again. Merlin, please..." He pleaded with himself.

You can't run from the truth though, you can't hide from it and you can't ignore it either. This was just like what happened two days ago, except the emotion and magic were different. Voldemort had brought something out in him and he couldn't control it.

Shaking in fear and self-disgust, he got to his feet and stumbled up the stairs and into the bathroom.

_End flashback_

Harry looked curiously over his arm, admiring its smooth skin and straight bone. It wasn't until after he had finished emptying his stomach for the second time in a week that he realised his arm was already healing. The tendons had pulled taught, straightening the snapped bone and strained muscle. It had hurt, but only for about five minutes or so until it had healed.

He may have wanted to ring Dudley's neck, but he'd had no desire to force something so painful it rivaled the Cruciatus upon him.

That was why Harry needed to stay calm. That was why he couldn't get angry at Snape or Malfoy. That was why he would take whatever they threw at him and he would not react. Impassive and composed would tide him over. He knew that much.

"Harry?" Hermione's voice interrupted him thoughts.

Schooling his face so it better resembled a questioning surprise rather than a troubled determination he replied, "Mhmm?"

"You looked pretty far away there," she gave a teasing half-smile, "I was just wondering if you got into all the subjects you nominated for? Because I know you got the O.W.L. results, but whether you were..."

"Yeah, I got into them all. Something I am quite proud of." Harry grinned, but he supressed the feeling of happiness, the magic that was lightly constraining now completely calm within him.

"Oh, well done! I knew you'd do it. Getting into the classes I mean, though I wasn't so sure about Professor Snape letting you in, but you did it!"

_Well, she's right; I wasn't so sure about Snape either, especially after the Pensieve incident._ Harry sent a quick glance at the Potions Professor but he too looked as though he was off in his own world. _I wonder if he'll ever let me apologise, for peering into his thoughts, and for my father._ The knotted and twisting form of dread, disappointment and an array of other emotions formed within his stomach as he recalled the memory. He felt his magic as it reared its ugly head in an effort to be let out. Harry wouldn't be able to contain it this time and it was with great speed did he leap from the table and attempt to form a coherent excuse to leave early from breakfast on a Sunday morning.

"I- I've just realised! I can go... er..." Hermione looked slightly shocked at his sudden outburst while Ron looked expectant.

"I- I can fly again! The ban's been lifted and I haven't been out for almost a year so-"

"Man, I forgot too. That old umbitch and her-"

"Really Ronald, that's no way to speak about a previous... well, she didn't actually teach anything did she..." Hermione looked a bit confused now.

"And now she'll be sorting through that mental dictionary of her's all day." Ron shook his head as he turned back to where Harry had been to share in this moment of and-here-she-goes-again.

He was gone.

"Jee, musta been pretty excited to get back on his Firebolt." Ron commented idly, but no one was really paying attention, and neither was he anymore - breakfast was calling.

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Severus seated himself at the head table, surveying the students milling about before him. Or better put, stuffing their faces while sprawled on the benches. Propriety and decorum had all but vanished throughout the newer generations.

He scanned the tables, noting Draco and his extensions, the Prefects of all houses who seemed to be doing a well enough job so far, the Golden Trio which really weren't a Golden Trio anymore and were more like the Golden Boy and the Love-Stoned... a sense of deja vu overroad Severus's senses as he continued his mental monologue.

Ahh, that's right - the welcoming feast had consisted of near the exact same thoughts.

_What a wonderful world I'm apart of; one where every meal-break is spent noting the same people and their lives which just seem to keep repeating themselves._

He sighed. Though, he'd much rather stifling boredom than stifling agony and at least he'd have time to create suitable and highly personal insults. He sneered. Students were offended so easily and wearing their hearts on their sleeves just made it all the more interesting. Not unlike Potter.

_And back to Potter. I fear he's shadowing my thoughts. Goddamn the boy and his utter foolishness and-_

Only the people personally and physically close to Severus would notice the slight blush that formed high on his cheek bones as he fumed in anger and embarrassment over the memory of finding Potter snooping through Dumbledore's Pensieve which contained his memories.

Severus's eyes, alight with hatred, found the Potter-spawn with McGonagall standing over him as she passed out the timetables.

The furnace within him died just as quickly and curiousity overtook as his noted the now rigid posture and entirely blank face of the boy. It only lasted a few moments, but that was enough for Severus to spot, even if Dumbledore didn't seem to notice anything.

He caught Potter giving his arm an odd look before engaging in conversation with the Love-Stoned. Severus's thoughts turned inward as he contemplated what he'd just witnessed. Obviously the blank face and tight posture was some form of memory and not a happy one at that - he knew that's what he looked like when he recalled something not-so-pretty. What memory, though, he had no idea.

_Surely Prince Potter had enough pampering over the holidays to swamp his mind with _joyous_ memories not dark ones. Or, maybe it's just another ploy to attract attention; because aren't they all? People will notice the _emotionally-scarred _Potter more so than the happy._

A scuffle at the Gryffindor table caught Severus's attention, bringing him back to reality - Potter was stuttering while Granger and Weasley looked baffled and curious, respectively. A small argument broke out between the boyfriend and girlfriend, leaving Potter to slip away, the large doors clicking shut behind him.

_Up to no good again! Potter, surely you've run into trouble enough times to stop. looking. for it._

McGonagall came back up to the head table, finished with the timetables, and gave Severus a look of consfusion. He returned with something he would consider a half-smile, but anyone else, a grimace, before polishing off the rest of his meal and leaving through the staff exit.

_Potter-hunting already and school still hasn't officially started yet._

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Oh I love reviews. They tell you what you're doing good at and what is so bad. Well, obviously my grammar there :P, but any comments are much appreciated as is constructive criticism :).


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